


Kyra's Story

by WritingBastard



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Original Story - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 05:16:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21156221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingBastard/pseuds/WritingBastard
Summary: A young general returns home after a long war, but there are still leftover enemy troops in the kingdom...





	Kyra's Story

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story being posted here on AO3, but I wrote it a long time ago. I would really appreciate some feedback!

Kyra walked the streets up to the castle. Her army trailed behind, and commoners watched from the windows and the sides of the streets. Flowers were thrown at them, for another victory. After six years of campaign, she remained unbeaten. Kyra was here to report to the king before hunting down any stragglers who could still be roaming the kingdom.

The cheers of the crowd were muffled to her ears. She had her own thoughts to worry about. Her face was an ivory wall, not letting anything pass.

The castle wall now loomed before her, the stone bricks large and sturdy. It was restored on the first year of war, after Kyra broke the siege to the city. She was named Commander soon after.

Her horse’s hooves bounded on the floor as she entered the courtyard before the main hall. Kyra had cleaned her armour the night before, and her winged helm, a shining steel piece with golden symbols like the rest of her armour, sat atop her head, visor up. Her spear was across her back, her shield on her right arm. Her armour was covered with white silk on the front, and red silk on the back. Today she was wearing the Commander’s cape, of red velvet, that flowed behind her as she moved.

She jumped from her horse, flexing her knees as she landed. Nobles had gathered there to welcome her, along with some of the castle’s staff. With them, the king and his top adviser. King Brennon was killed during the siege, leaving his then 9-year-old son, Gannon, as heir to the throne. The top adviser, Rivelir, kept to his side during the war. Kyra never trusted him any more than she would trust a new born to hold a knife.

Gannon was smiling at her. “Lady Commander. I am ever so pleased to see you. And you return home victorious, after smashing my enemies to pieces.”

Kyra knelt before him, her shield arm over her chest. “My Lord King,” she said, “I only fulfilled my duty to the kingdom.”

The very representation of the kingdom sat on King Gannon’s head, shining as if it had just been forged. The jewels gleamed in the sunlight. In his right hand, the image represented on her shield: a gold sceptre in the form of a rose, with a great ruby on the top and two snakes circling it from its base and throwing their heads back, fangs showing, when meeting the top. One was made in silver and the other was bronze, their fangs sculpted out of diamonds.

Gannon’s black irises flashed with something Kyra didn’t recognize, despite his grin. “Of course. Please, come inside, my champion.”

Kyra got up and followed him inside, her captains and the nobles right at her heels .

҉

The celebration was held in the main hall that same night. Alleging tiredness, and eagerness to sleep on a comfortable bed for the first time in many years, she managed to get away from the noise. Walking the castle at night, her feet led her to the royal smith’s home, near the stables. She had seen the smith at the party, so she expected only his daughter to be there.

Kyra was wearing a long, sleeveless red dress provided by the king’s tailor. She would have preferred pants and a tunic, but she thought it better to entertain the young king’s whims, if only for one night. Kyra hesitated a moment before knocking.

Frea opened the door, widening her eyes at Kyra. She smiled and they hugged each other. Frea was taller than Kyra, her hair black, just as her eyes were. She was practically the only friend Kyra had. Inviting her in, Frea offered her something to drink. Refusing, she sat down on the chair she was shown.

“So,” Frea said, sitting down herself, “do you still have the dagger I gave you?”

Doing her best to appear sheepish, Kyra smiled awkwardly before replying. She remembered very well the mentioned dagger, a copper handle in the form of a dragon’s body with a blade protruding from its jaws, “Oh, that. Right. Uh, no. I lost it. A couple of years ago.”

“What happened?”

“I threw it at someone’s throat. I looked for it afterwards, but I couldn’t find it. Sorry.”

Frea snorted. “Well, I’m glad it served its purpose.”

Kyra smiled.

҉

The next morning, she had a meeting with the king, his advisers, and her captains.

They talked the whole morning of rebuilding the kingdom and finding the stragglers. Rivelir talked of a small group of enemies being sighted, not even forty man strong, in the Spirit Woods. The room fell silent at that. It was considered bad luck to go in there, and not many made it back.

They finally decided to have Kyra and one of her captains take a hundred troops there to hunt the stragglers. Most troops would be busy rebuilding, so only a few captains would lead the hunting parties.

After the meeting, Finnar, one of the oldest advisers, pulled her aside into a hallway to talk. He looked nervous.

“Lady Kyra,” he said, looking to the sides, “you should beware your own success. Most people consider you more fit to rule than the king, and they would undoubtedly follow you. Maybe you should consider a match with him, so the rumours that you want to take the crown quiet down.”

Kyra never considered that for a second. Neither her success nor the king. She was ten years his elder. “That won’t happen. Ever,” she said, looking at Finnar straight into his eyes. His wrinkled face retracted, his mouth forming a thin line.

“I see. Then, I can only wish you the best of luck, Lady Commander.”

Kyra turned around, not even glancing at him.

The morning after, she left the castle with the hunting party.

҉

Nearing the edge of the woods, the horses refused to go any further. Kyra commanded her troops to dismount. Their horses were finely trained to always come when called, so they wouldn’t stray too far. Still, they wouldn't go inside the forest.

Turning to her as they entered the forest after the scouts, her captain asked Kyra if she believed in spirits. “They are just silly stories people tell to their kids so they won’t go in there and get lost.”

The forest was silent. Not even bugs or small animals made a sound. The troops were scattered within shouting distance, in spearhead formation. Kyra led them. According to the map, they should be approaching the middle of the forest. In truth, no one really knew where the middle was exactly.

Ahead they saw a clearing. The scouts lay in its centre, red covering the grass around them. Signalling for the group to stop, Kyra and her captain went ahead.

Approaching the corpses, Kyra saw a piece of paper on the ground near them. There was something written on it with blood. Kyra grabbed her spear and the sound of the soldiers readying their weapons came to her faintly.

She knelt down to read what was written on the paper.

Surprise!

Widening her eyes and getting up quickly, Kyra motioned for the troops to join her, just as she heard someone scream “Enemies sighted!”

She started shouting orders as arrows chased her soldiers to the clearing. “Form a circle! Archers in the centre! Spear men in the front! Swordsmen behind us! Raise your shields and kneel down!” She stood at the edge of the circle and watched, hopeless, as a force of at least five hundred, archers alone, emerged from the edges of the clearing and arrows streaked the air towards Kyra's forces mercilessly. An arrow struck her foot and she screamed in pain. She broke it where it met her boot and lifted her foot, blood dripping on the grass.

In the first minute of combat, her troops were down by half their numbers. Then, the enemy archers stepped back as swordsmen advanced on them, yelling.

Kyra yelled back and the spear men who were still alive ran with her to meet them. Her swordsmen stood back to protect the archers, but soon had to break the formation to keep themselves alive.

She fought viciously; for every one of her soldiers she saw falling down she killed three more foes. Soon she was standing alone, struggling not to trip on any bodies and to pile up more of her enemies. She was now standing in the last green patch of area in the clearing.

Kyra killed the last swordsmen and fell on her knees, still gripping her spear. Her vision was blurry and she was breathing heavily. The archers at the border of the clearing were all aiming at her. She watched as two archers parted away from each other, still aiming at her, to let a pair of bulky men pass, holding a thin figure that lay weakly in their strong arms.

Frea.

She was bruised. There was blood on her tattered clothes. Her lips were parted and destroyed. Her eyes were black, one of them swollen shut. She had small cuts all over her face.

Kyra struggled to get up. She started to walk towards them, limping. Soon, she was running as fast as she could without tripping. One of the men pulled out a knife and slit Frea’s throat, letting her fall down to the ground.

Kyra stopped, as a tear rolled down her face, cleaning the path in the middle of all the dried blood on her face. She stood there as more swordsmen approached.

She fought them. She killed them, as ruthlessly as they had killed her friend. Arrows struck her back, her sides. She didn’t feel them. She was impervious to pain. An arrow hit her knee and she fell. She continued to fight them, tears rolling down her face, yelling. Soon she was alone again.

She let her spear go with a spasm as an arrow hit her arm. Another hit her back and she used her shield to keep herself propped up as she fell further. She coughed up blood on the grass. She opened her eyes weakly. Kyra focused on the grass. It looked so green. Why didn’t she notice that when she first walked into the clearing?

She heard a bowstring tense and closed her eyes. She felt rain on the back of her head, the smell of the wet earth coming to her, as lightning struck and thunder roared in the skies.

The sound of the arrow cutting through the air seemed to her as one of the songs Frea used to whistle as she was working the forge.

Nothingness struck Kyra.

҉


End file.
